


as sure as the rivers reach the seas

by Makari Crow (Beanna)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Tales of Covert Cupid 2019, by postgame i mean post-epilogue, just a little bit of timeline what timeline, postgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 12:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17807639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beanna/pseuds/Makari%20Crow
Summary: Sorey’s smiling like an idiot. The longer Mikleo looks at it, the more that warmth comes over him, too; a slow suffusing thing growing up from the inside, threatening to overtake his face with some similar expression.A bit of postgame fluff involving hair braiding, the nuances of traveling together, and the things sentiment does to a person.





	as sure as the rivers reach the seas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tales of Covert Cupid 2019 gift exchange. For Ant! (artsyantatee@twitter) Hope it makes you smile.

Mikleo wakes mostly because something is pulling at his hair. 

He swats vaguely over his shoulder, attempts to burrow down and go back to sleep; but then there’s Sorey’s soft laughter and Mikleo grudgingly concedes that he could, in fact, be awake. “Haven’t you seen enough of that yet?”

“Never,” Sorey says, a laugh still in his voice. “I still can’t quite believe it.” 

It’s been _more_  than enough time for Sorey to get used to the length, in Mikleo’s private opinion, but— well, in the face of that delight, it would take a grumpier man than he to complain all that much. “Well,” Mikleo says, “believe it.” He tries to ascertain what Sorey is doing without opening his eyes – there’s mostly just gentle tugging, which doesn’t tell him all that much. “Is whatever you’re doing going to need me to get up?”

“Hm?” There’s a pause. “No, I don’t think so. Not unless you want to.”

Mikleo is of two minds on this, because lazy indolence with Sorey at his side is something he doesn’t plan to stop savoring any time soon; but by the same token, if he gets up, then he’ll be more alert and also have better odds of seeing what Sorey is up to.

Not that he’s necessarily up to something. 

“Nnnngh,” Mikleo says into his pillow. “Are you even using a comb?”

“Well, no,” Sorey says. Belatedly, Mikleo can now track the faint tug to Sorey combing fingers through his hair. “It’s not so tangled that I needed to. It’s just...”

Mikleo waits a generous amount of time for the end of a sentence that doesn’t come. “Just what?” he prompts, a little more sharply than he means to.

There’s the brush of fingertips against his cheek as Sorey reaches over to pat him affectionately. “You had short hair for forever, remember?” he says, as if Mikleo was in any danger of forgetting this. “I’m just getting used to it.”

This sounds to Mikleo like a flimsy justification. “If you’re going to be playing with it anyway, you can do something useful,” he decides, and pushes himself up. This provides his first sight of Sorey that day, too: rumpled, feathers in his hair askew, wearing the sheepish, lopsided sort of smile that Mikleo is horrifically fond of. It looks, judging by this and the fact he hasn’t made any visible effort at getting dressed, like the first thing Sorey did upon waking was decide he needed to play with Mikleo’s hair.

Well. Mikleo supposes, since it’s obviously such a priority, that he can allow it, and goes to get a comb out of their packs. The inn they’re staying at is nice and all, full up on amenities, but when given the option Mikleo really prefers his own things.

There’s some brief debate about how best to make this work; in the end Mikleo settles on the floor, leaning against the bed, bracketed by Sorey’s knees to either side. This, too, is some not insignificant indulgence, not strictly a necessary use of anyone’s time and effort. And yet: here they are, and there’s nothing pressing demanding their attention, no world or people immediately needing saving. Just the road ahead. The indulgence can be afforded. 

Mikleo, expecting the gentle tug of a comb or perhaps Sorey’s hands, startles when Sorey leans over him, blocking some of the light. A few seconds later he tilts his head back to look up, pretending he is completely at ease and did no such ridiculous thing as startling. “What?”

Sorey’s smiling like an idiot. The longer Mikleo looks at it, the more that warmth comes over him, too; a slow suffusing thing growing up from the inside, threatening to overtake his face with some similar expression. 

“It’s nothing,” Sorey says cheerfully, and drops a kiss on the top of Mikleo’s head, and straightens up blushing before he can be further interrogated. Mikleo rather thinks it _is_  something, actually, but he can always get it out of Sorey later. 

Sorey hums as he works, tuneless but not discordant, and Mikleo pulls his mind back to the present moment every time he notices it wandering. He’s wandered long enough, really. Of all the places in this world he’s seen, he’d still prefer to be here most of all, with Sorey taking forever about figuring out what to do with his hair. 

Eventually Sorey pushes a loose plait over his shoulder. Mikleo picks it up with a critical eye, notes some wisps. It’s serviceable, and probably less prone to fall into things than his usual loose tail, but... Mikleo undoes the tie at the end anyway, pushes it back toward Sorey. “Can you do it tighter?”

“Aw,” says Sorey, “I thought it was pretty.” His hands are at work anyway, though.

Mikleo leans back into this until Sorey nudges him upright. “I just like it tighter than that,” he says, defensive. “Like that it’ll just come undone halfway through the day.” He’s never had this detailed an opinion about braiding in his life.

“All right, all right.” Sorey’s half-laughing as he undoes his previous work and goes about the whole thing again, combing it out and starting over. “Picky.”

“It’s a matter of practicality,” Mikleo says loftily. Yes. Definitely that, and not just an excuse to stay here longer. 

If he’s honest with both of them, he could probably just ask transparently. Then again –he rather suspects Sorey knows he’s making this up.

“Mmhm,” Sorey agrees tolerantly, and the next several minutes are rather agreeably spent. 

When Mikleo finally does get up, previously loose waves have been overtaken by a neat herringbone pattern which he is intimately aware took Sorey no small amount of trial and error. Sorey is shaking his hands out theatrically. “The things I do for you,” he says, just this side of too dramatic to be serious. 

“Thank you,” Mikleo says, with equal measures dignity and sincerity. 

“You’re welcome.” Sorey, beaming, snags Mikleo by the hand for a moment, then appears to forget what he was going to say, leaving them simply standing there being sappy at each other. It’s ridiculous. “—hey, shouldn’t we get ready if we wanted to go anywhere today? You said we were close to a place you wanted to show me.”

“Right.” 

It still takes several more moments to get Sorey to let go of him.

Mikleo gets it, really. It hasn’t been all _that_  long. For all that they used to be easy together, and in some ways Sorey being back has been the simplest thing in the world, there are still periods they trip over each other, around each other. Mikleo’s had time. Sorey – he has too, just not in the same ways. 

The important things haven’t changed, at least. Just the minutia.

At the least they can still both dress and pack efficiently, and in less than half an hour, Mikleo is standing near the window, waiting for Sorey with his head bent over one of his journals, scrutinizing the hand-sketched map just to make sure he remembers the way. This is one of the first ruins he’d thought, explicitly, that he wanted to show to Sorey someday.

Sorey announces his readiness by leaning against Mikleo’s back and setting his chin on his shoulder. “Is that where we’re headed?”

Mikleo makes an absent sound by way of agreement, flipping the page to the detail of the path. Some of it’s probably changed in the intervening years – that’s what the world does. 

“Awesome.” His breath tickles Mikleo’s ear. There’s the sense of something unsaid in the brief silence that follows, neither of them really moving.

Mikleo decides he doesn’t have patience for that, and gently elbows Sorey in the ribs. “What is it?”

There’s a short huff of a laugh. “Hey,” Sorey says. And, a few moments later, “...I guess I’m a little jealous of all the places you’ve been.” Mikleo doesn’t have to hear _without me_  to know it’s there. “I know it’s not like I could expect you to stay put for that long. Even you’d run out of books eventually.”

Mikleo doesn’t bother arguing that he really did mean to read those books, and while Sorey was unconscious just happened to be the perfect time. They would both know the truth of it, anyway. “You’re one to talk,” he says instead, and it comes out terribly fond. “Who was it reading the Celestial Record  _instead_  of lessons, again?”

“Hey,” Sorey says again, comfortably. “It was more interesting.”

“I know.” It really was. Mikleo just prides himself on having been more disciplined. He turns his head a fraction toward Sorey, taps the page his journal is open to. “You’re missing part of the picture, though.”

“Huh?” Sorey leans a little forward, sneaking his arms around Mikleo like he thinks he’s being subtle. “What do you mean?”

Mikleo huffs, leans back against Sorey. If this is happening, he’s taking full advantage. “...I didn’t explore _everything_ ,” he says. He can feel his face warming despite himself. “A lot of the places I went – especially if I thought you’d like them – I left a couple of places untouched. You can’t get a complete study that way, so I’m probably missing some important historical context, but... it wasn’t the same. So I saved some things.” 

Sorey’s quiet for some long moments. “I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he says finally, voice rich with some warm affection. He straightens up, letting go of Mikleo, but it’s only so he can walk around and put them face to face. 

He doesn’t immediately do anything else, leaving Mikleo to wonder what he’s playing at. It’s a good opportunity to study him all over again, re-establishing every familiar line, remembering and comparing the shape of him now to those memories. His smile’s never really changed, has it? Only gotten warmer. “...what is it?” Mikleo asks finally, when Sorey still provides nothing.

There’s that same quick flash of smile, and Sorey catches him by the shoulders and leans in, and before Mikleo can really process what’s happening Sorey is kissing him, all tender softness and a taste like sunlight, and the sense that all is right in the world. Mikleo leans toward him, automatically reaching out to steady himself, only one hand still has a book in it—

One hand no longer has a book in it. Sorey snags the journal and skips a few steps away, impish. “I’ll race you there,” he says, scooping up his pack and making for the door. 

Mikleo needs a few seconds to recover himself from that blatant cheating. Sorey is out the door by the time Mikleo manages to head after him. “Sorey! Get— will you get back here!”

Sorey’s only answer is delighted laughter, floating back down the hall.

Truthfully, Mikleo wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

>   * I have absolutely given no thought to timeline beyond 'a few months after the final cutscene', but traveling together and exploring seemed plausible to me. 
>   * It's been a little while since I've played Zestiria, but I like Sorey/Mikleo too well to turn up an excuse to write fluff when I saw them in the prompt list. Also, I was rewatching skits for voice and the fact that Mikleo has in the past straight-up refused to go places when Sorey is injured is just plain sweet.
>   * It's entirely possible seraphim don't need to sleep, but hey, we all do things we don't strictly need to do because they're nice, right?
>   * Title shamelessly yanked from Nightwish, "Over the Hills and Far Away."
>   * If there's one cardinal truth to know about me, it's that I will literally never pass up an excuse for hair braiding.
>   * [That's all I've got.](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/bc/5d/91/bc5d9165bbc798764f212cf2c524023f.jpg)
> 



End file.
